Bloodstains
by LadyLash
Summary: Red watches Liz in her latest hotel room, and he decides it's time for a change of pace. Set before the end of Season 2. One shot. Lemon.


Red sat behind Dembe, staring hard out from his black, tinted car windows. Lizzie was in her latest motel room, unpacking, sitting, watching the TV. They had been idling the car for so long that Dembe had left for food twice and Red's legs were asleep. But still he sat, staring, unmoving.

As soon as Lizzie ducked into the bathroom with her towel, Red opened his car door and headed in. Picking her lock was as easy as turning a key. He sank into the bed, removed his hat, and rested his elbows on his knees. Jacketless, he rolled his crisp white sleeves above his thick forearms, and his Rolex gleamed from the lamplight.

The shower turned off. The plastic door shuddered open. Footsteps on tile. Breathing.

Then, the hinges cracked open and Lizzie came through. He saw her stutter step when she noticed him.

"Jesus Christ, Red. What the fuck?"

He sighed.

She shifted her weight in her towel.

His voice was low and stiff,

"Tom Keen lives."

Lizzie cursed under her breath,

"Yeah? Maybe that's none of your business."

"No," he looked up at her from under the shade of his brow, eyes filled with rage, "I mean he lives for now. After I'm done with him, well..."

"Where did you take him? I'm not finished yet. He still won't tell me about Berlin's -"

Red shot up, his broad shoulders seemed to fill the small space, and for a man who was usually not the tallest or biggest in the room, his power was now painfully obvious. He kept his voice down, in spite of his raised stature,

"If I gave a damn about Berlin, I'd understand. But I don't. Not even one tiny bit. You know what I do care about?" He took a step towards her, "I care about the fact that you put yourself in harm's way over and over and over," the volume increase was startling, "and you didn't trust me enough to help you. Not once did you think what would happen if he broke free, if he came after you, if he took you."

He watched her. Their bodies were closer than they probably needed to be. Her shampoo smelled like apples, and her skin steamed with heat from the water. Lizzie pulled her towel closer to her chest,

"Oh. I see. What if Tom got the Fulcrum? That's what this is. Great."

Red shook his head. Sarcasm boiled over and oozed from his throat,

"Yes, Lizzie. I only care about the Fulcrum. The rest of the planet can sink into the sea, but if I have the Fulcrum, I'll be set."

"Is that not the truth? You didn't seem to mind throwing _my_ life into the sea. Drowning _me_."

His shout rattled in her chest like a thunder clap, and hurt like a gun shot,

"You are the _only_ thing that matters, Elizabeth!"

The silence pressed down into her like a hot iron. Doubt clouded her mind. His frustration rose like a fever,

"You push me away and then as soon as you get scared, you call me back. I'm sick of your excuses. Berlin this, your father that. That's not what's important to you, Lizzie."

"Oh," she shuddered, livid, "okay. So, my life isn't important to me? That's -"

"Be honest. You just want your revenge. And that," he paused, "is something I can understand. But, we are either a team, or we're nothing. You're going to have to pick. I will help you murder, maim, and destroy whoever it is that ruined your life, but tonight - right now - you have to ask for it. Most people pay me for help, but for you - this one time - the offer is free."

She waited for him to go on, but he didn't. Where is he even going with this? She decided to find out.

"Yeah," she crossed her arms, "fine."

"Good," he changed his demeanor from serious back to flippant in a split second, "now let's go talk to Tom."

They arrived at the docks a little after midnight. Tom lay, cold and shaking, in a heap. His face was pressed into the hard ground, blood pouring from his gaping mouth, eyes wild. Dembe's boot smashed into Tom's fleshy cheek, putting more pressure on his jaw bone. Tom's eyes shut tight with the pain, making him clench up.

Their interrogation was going nowhere.

"Is that all?" Red's voice covered Tom like a heavy blanket, suffocating and surrounding his senses.

He coughed, unable to reply.

"Hmm," Red mused sarcastically, pouring another glass of vodka for him and Lizzie, "I just feel like you're leaving something out. Can't quite put my finger on it…" A long pause filled the empty warehouse like a flood, "Oh, yes! If you're telling the truth, " Red suddenly raised his voice, his throaty shouts vicious and unforgiving like a dog bark, "then why did you stay in D. C.?"

"Lizzie…" Tom whisper was barely audible. Dembe's boot kicked the back of Tom's neck hard enough to knock him out.

Red wiped his forehead, a bit of sweat dotted his temples,

"Well, he's useless. Throw him in the crate again, if you please, Dembe. C'mon, Lizzie. Let's get some rest. We'll do this again in the morning."

Liz was numb. They had questioned Tom for hours, and still he lied. Red was the most terrifying man on the planet and still Tom was more afraid of whoever was employing him. Why? What's his plan? And, Lizzie wondered, what did it have to do with her?

She expected Red to take her back to the hotel, but he didn't. Their drive was brief, and they stopped at Red's most recent acquisition - a high rise apartment downtown. The furniture was dark and masculine. Art lay scattered around the room, some hanging, some resting on a wall. Red opened a big cabinet of crystal and poured more vodka out into a pair of glasses. Lizzie reached for one carefully, clearly shaken from the type of man she had seen come out in him tonight.

"Are you alright?" His voice was quiet and silky. She wanted to roll up in it like a fur coat, wanted to lean into him and relax, but her fear held her in place.

"Yeah," she took a larger swig from the vodka than he expected her to. He filled her glass again.

"You know," he confessed, "I wasn't always this way. Blood used to disgust me. In fact, I still get a little queasy. Back when I didn't have enough money for a closet full of clothes, I used to scrub the bloodstains out of my coats with peroxide and a prayer. I started to get used to the violence that these people expect. It's like learning a new language. It's expected of me," he finished his glass off in one quick slam, "and it might be expected of you soon. Sure, the FBI teaches you about interrogation and defense, but what happens when the day comes when you have to pry something from someone?"

Liz swallowed, feeling the hot burn of the vodka run down her throat,

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I just didn't…you just don't...Red, you don't make any sense. How can you be so careful and protective of me and then so -"

"Ruthless? Unforgiving?" He suggested words for her to use.

"... Animalistic." She decided on a description and pushed it into the silence between them.

He cocked his head, leaning on the desk with a tired sway,

"I learned. I tried it the nice way. No guns, I said. No murder. No theft. But, it became clear that guns are a conversation starter. Murder is a reply. Theft is a query. When I say that I learned a language, I mean that it's universal. I don't speak a lot of Russian or Cantonese. But, do you know what I do speak? Ruthlessness, violence, brutality. You don't need to speak if your actions are clear," he said with some finality. His voice was low and somber, full of a lifetime of regret and pain.

"If that's your new language," she stepped towards him, grabbing the bottle from his hands, "then how do you speak to me the way you do? Carefully, honestly, patiently? Why do you use a different language with me?"

She drank straight from the mouth of the bottle, her lips surrounding the glass rim. He took it from her, his gaze never leaving her eyes, and drank from it as well. She could she him undoing his tight-buttoned control. His movements were cocky, confident, unbridled. Red inhaled sharply and he took another drink. Then, she watched as his hand dug into the band of his pants and pulled out his gun. He let it fall on the table with a loud clunk. He drank from the bottle again. Resting his leg on the chair, he yanked out another gun and a tactical knife from his ankle. He finished the bottle, tossing it away from him with a crash.

Liz stepped back a few feet from the shards, her eyes watching him saunter towards her in pursuit, his motions somewhere between man and beast.

He pulled his belt out of its loops, the end snapping as it came. Glass crunched under his shoes. His fingers roughly and deftly removed his tie from around his neck, shirt buttons popping out, one by one. His vest came down with a soft fluttering to the ground. Red plunged his hands into his pockets and pulled out a small pistol, a pocket knife, and some metal rods that Lizzie didn't recognize. His wallet. His phones. He was leaving a trail of himself across the study.

The light from the roaring fire filled the room with shadow, the dark angles flickering across his face making him look even more vicious. He was wolf-like, his hard gaze hungry and determined.

Lizzie felt her cheeks flush as she watched him undress like this. Finally, he closed in on her. She could feel the heat from his body. He backed her up into a low bookshelf and she leaned into it with nowhere else to go. Red put both of his hands into her hair, grabbing the roots and letting his forearms press into her collar bones with their weight. His thick thigh pushed between her legs, spreading them apart until she could feel her own fire against his leg. His body engulfed her, broad shoulders blocking her view of the office, covering her in shadow. His lips parted slightly, and she could smell his quiet breaths. It was vodka and cigars and those butterscotch candies he was addicted to this month. She was lost in it, but his voice brought her back.

He spoke low, and his words rumbled from deep in his chest,

"I speak to you with my old words, because I know that you're the only one who can hear them."

He sank his mouth into hers before she could respond. His jaw pushed into her, desperately feasting on her lips and tongue, sucking at her skin. She kissed him back, completely overcome by his insistence.

"Lizzie," he pulled away and held her soft face in his hands, "I love you, and I will always love you. Even with my final breath I will praise your name. You are the only thing that matters to me, Elizabeth."

She wanted him, and badly. Their constant dance had taken its toll on her and she had to admit, when she was alone, it wasn't Tom she wanted beside her. It was Red. But love? Did she love him?

"Red…" Lizzie whispered, not knowing what to say.

"Shh," he wrapped a big hand around her throat, gently but firmly, "Enough. Say no and I'll stop, but you want to talk, and I will have none of that tonight."

He paused for a moment longer, waiting for her to call it - to push him away like she always did - but she didn't. And when he saw her hold her tongue on purpose this time, he stretched her jaw up to meet his, pulling her mouth up, and she sank her lips into him.

Their kiss was hard and unforgiving. He bit her mouth, and when he pulled back, he leaned to kiss her soft neck instead. His tongue lapped at her skin, and as he pressed harder and harder into her delicate throat, he plunged a large finger into her gasping mouth. She sucked on it, covering the digit with her warm tongue. He stuttered a bit, letting out a dark moan. She sucked harder, holding his hand in hers, pushing it deeper into her throat. The moan was louder this time. He looked at her in pained disbelief, his brow furrowing in distress. He kissed her again, removing his finger from her lips.

He moved his legs in between hers, prying them apart even wider, and Lizzie could feel the fabric of her panties, wet and out of place. The air from the room shocked her, and instinctively she tried to close her legs. In response, Red widened his stance and stayed there, perfectly still. She trembled involuntarily, her breathing ragged and uncontrollable. Two fingers dipped into her mouth now, pressing against her tongue. Lizzie responded in kind, deciding that he wasn't the only one in charge here. She yanked his hand deeper again, mercilessly sucking and licking at his fingertips, staring at him completely unashamed.

"God, Lizzie…" he steadied himself with his other arm, resting it on her shoulder. He tugged on her dress and it came down, peeling it the rest of the way off. It hung loosely at her waist, exposing her bare chest to him.

He pulled his hand from her mouth and used it to push her damp panties to the side, rubbing the wetness across her swollen folds. As he licked at her warm nipple, he rubbed two fingers against her pussy, rhythmically tugging at her lips after each long stroke. She could feel the heat rush to the spot, feel herself contact and pulse inside, eager for him to spread her muscles apart.

Evidence of his arousal was visible now, and his hot, heavy cock throbbed against his zipper. Liz began to free it, eliciting another moan from Red, and she heard it deteriorate into a growl. His fingers moved in earnest. She popped open the button and let the zipper down carefully. Finally, she wrapped a shaking hand around him and gave him one long tug, milking his tip as shiny, clear fluid beaded at the small opening.

She rubbed his head in small circles, then, sliding off the shelf, she knelt beneath him and surrounded his cock with her warm mouth. Red let out a cry, his hands resting gently on her neck, not pulling, but massaging her muscles with his firm touch. He loved watching her devour him.

She finally worked up the courage to try and swallow him whole, and as he felt her throat tighten up, he thought he would come right then and there. He pulled away with a breathy gasp, stepped out of his slacks, and bent to pick her up.

He carried her, kissing her fiercely, into the bedroom. Lizzie watched him as he lay her down, and she went about removing his shirt and revealing the skin below. For the first time that night, he stopped. The pause was sobering.

"What's wrong?" She whispered, her voice ragged.

"I can't," he held her hand still, stopping her from undoing his final buttons.

She ignored him. He put up the slightest fight, but when Liz finally removed the fabric, she could see why he stopped her.

Thick bands of burn scars marred his shoulders and sides, the skin of it was discolored and hard. She turned him gently and made a quiet sound as she saw his back. It looked like he had lain on a bed of fire, and from his neck to the middle of his spine the skin was unrecognizable. Imagining the pain that he had endured made Lizzie feel faint.

"You," her voice was shaking and barely audible, "you're the one. You saved me. Oh my God. You saved me…"

"It's a lot to look at, I know," he sounded defeated.

She rose up on her knees, the bed putting her at eye level with him,

"I don't care how it looks. Besides, I thought we weren't talking tonight."

She kissed him softly at first. When he still stared at the ground, she kissed him harder. She pushed the shirt away and pulled her dress over her head, completely naked before him.

Unable to hold himself back, he stepped out of his silk boxer briefs, his heavy cock swaying a bit as he walked to the end of the bed. He stood there, undoing the latch on his Rolex, completely open to her. The watch hit the floor with a bang.

Even outside of his clothes, his attitude was the same. He looked like an old king, a retired general, a soldier without an army. Tattoos and scars were evidence of another life, a separate world where he used to be king, used to be a general, used to have an army. She should've been underwhelmed. He was older. He had lived a hard life. His body should've been nothing to speak of. But, she couldn't stop staring. His chest was wide and thick, and his shoulders were like great round boulders. Red's midsection was not thin or defined in the least, but it was firm. And those legs… Liz loved watching his thighs and ass.

He knelt on the edge of the bed and crawled toward her like a big lion, the muscles in his arms bending and fluttering under the stress. With a quick pull, he yanked her hips off of the bed and bent his mouth down to greet her wet lips. Lizzie let out a loud cry. The sensation was immediate.

Red buried his face in her pussy, and he could feel her wetness coat his chin. She smelled like honey and musk and he knew he'd never get enough of her. Her taste was too subtle. No matter how deep his tongue went into her hot core, he only wanted to devour her more and more. He felt her try to escape, the pleasure building between her legs. He pinned her, wrapping both arms around her and lifting her up into his mouth. She screamed. After that, all he wanted was to hear her scream again.

Red dropped her body to the bed and fell on her, the weight of him pressing her down. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he positioned himself against her entrance. Lizzie felt his head pop into her pussy, resting there, waiting to plunge into her core. He was waiting.

She looked up at his face. He was staring at her, mouth open and panting from the need. She kissed him and dug her hips into his, prodding him on.

He moaned and sank himself into her. Just when Lizzie thought that he was settled, he lifted her thigh and plunged forward even deeper. She held her breath from the shock of it.

Red began to pump himself in and out of her wet pussy, listening to the delightful slap as her juices were squeezed out by his invasion. She was the perfect fit. Everything about her body made him harder. She responded to the slightest changes. If he went faster, she would tighten her muscles, and if he slowed down, she would push her hips into him, forcing his head deeper into her writhing body.

He was on his knees with her laid out in front of him, and he pressed into her lower abdomen with a heavy fist, making her feel every little detail as he fucked her. Her screams changed then. They were dark and gravelly, and she sounded like a wild animal. He felt her come. It was enough to almost force it out of him as well. Her walls pulsed against him like a trapped butterfly's wings, and her sticky fluid flooded out and coated his cock, matting the dark hair, staining the sheets.

Then, to his surprise, she flipped him, stealing his position, spreading her legs over him and lowering herself onto his hardness. She rocked back and forth, faster and faster, pushing down fiercely into his hips. He reached for her, trying to slow her down, but it was too late. He was coming deep into her body. Thick hot bolts of his orgasm shot into her and he yelled out in blissful agony.

She fell beside him and he reached out, clutching her skin against his. He kissed her in earnest, whispering things to her that she couldn't understand. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, and tiny aftershocks buzzed in her aching muscles.

Red heard her sigh as he cradled her head on his arm.

"I am in a desperate, unending love with you, Elizabeth," he said aloud.

She smiled up at him,

"I love you, too, Red. There's no reason that it ever has to end."

Whelp. There it is. I have more chapters, but I dunno. If you want them just comment I guess. #Lizzington


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